


Uber to Hell

by minbins



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hell, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Demon Ten (Mentioned), Devil Yuta, Erotic blood drinking, Explicit Consent, M/M, Modifiable Body Parts, Oral Sex, Pierced Yuta, Self Lubrication, Vigilante Serial Killer Donghyuck, Vigilante Serial Killer Priest Taeil, demon Taeil, demon biology, demon fucking, tummy bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbins/pseuds/minbins
Summary: "This just in — serial murderer ‘Haechan’ appears to have struck again in downtown Seoul. The victim has been identified as 23-year-old forensic anthropology student Lee Donghyuck."“Ironic, right?”
Relationships: Implied Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Multiple Others, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 21
Kudos: 198
Collections: nct title fest 2020





	Uber to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #198.
> 
> **Warning: everyone is as dead in this as they need to be to get to hell in the first place, but death itself is not a major plot point. This is all just horny demonfucking, honestly. Please do heed the blood drinking warning — this is very much an explored kink within the work, so blood itself is described in detail. ******

“Lee Donghyuck?” 

Donghyuck looks down at the ground, at his own body laying there pathetically in a pool of blood. Distantly, he hears scuttling footsteps. The lowlife that’d somehow bested him is getting away. 

This isn’t how it’s meant to go— Donghyuck is the one who does the killing. An infamous serial murderer like  _ Haechan _ isn’t meant to die like this, snuck up on from behind by some random whose face he didn’t even get to see.  _ Coward.  _ Donghyuck always looked into their eyes before they died, the chance to see Haechan’s true identity a fitting parting gift. 

Whoever it had been doesn’t deserve the honour of killing someone as special as Donghyuck, but they have taken it anyway. 

He looks up then, at the man who can see him, who somehow knows his name. His  _ real  _ name, the one he hasn’t used for anything in years. The man stands in front of a black car, polished to such a shine that it reminds Donghyuck of spilt oil.  _ Or blood in moonlight. _ Both the man and the car can be seen in startling clarity in contrast to the fog, which fills the street like it’s sentiently trying to smother their surroundings. 

A lesser man would miss the signs, but Donghyuck is better than any. “You’re my Uber, then?” he asks. He won’t have much time left for joking, so he might as well.

The man laughs. He has a pretty smile. There’s a dangerous edge to it, something sharp that only makes him prettier to a man like Donghyuck. “Something like that, yes.”

Carelessly, he walks towards the man, feet trailing through his own blood. It doesn’t stain him, but he doesn’t expect it to. He’s weightless, yet feels leaden inside. “Don’t suppose I get the chance to punish the scum that just offed me, do I?” Donghyuck asks. Whoever this is, they have to know the rules, surely. 

The driver’s hair falls in his eyes, shoulder-length and silver, as he inclines his head, opening the passenger side door for Donghyuck. He’s awfully beautiful for some lackey, like a fallen angel in his own right. Perhaps that’s a requirement for the job, nephilim running the shop while humans pay their dues. “Not yet,” he replies vaguely.  _ Interesting.  _ Maybe he’ll get punishment points for good behaviour where he’s going— because Donghyuck  _ knows _ where he’s ending up. 

_ One look back. _

He makes a pretty corpse, hair fanning out almost angelically where the blood is yet to mat it. With the blond surrounded by blood, Donghyuck’s empty shell looks like a sky at sunset. At least he died before he could grow withered and bitter. Still, twenty-three is hardly a life fully lived. “A pity, huh?”

“That’s relative.” The man smiles that same sharp-toothed smile. “I doubt that your victims would agree with you,  _ Haechan.” _

“‘Victim’ is a strong word,” Donghyuck retorts. He may know where he’s going, but he’s going without regret. He falls into the proffered seat, slouching back in the fancy leather. It’s butter-soft, luxury that hardly befits the Eternal Torment brand. Perhaps it’s for the driver’s comfort, or to exacerbate discomfort once they reach their destination. Agony is all the deadlier with the memory of bliss. “Some people deserve to be punished, no?”

“I quite agree, Donghy-” A pause. Another contemplative look from those sharp eyes. “Well, what name would you prefer that I call you?” the driver asks, slipping into his own seat. Donghyuck closes his door. There’s no use running. 

“You’re showing me an awful lot of courtesy for someone driving me to Hell.”

“Would you prefer that I smite you?”

There’s a flirty edge to the man’s voice that Donghyuck willingly matches. He doubts sleeping with him will get Donghyuck any special favours Down There— he’s just a driver, after all. Even if he doesn’t feel it. But what’s one last sin among the multitude as a send off? “Can’t say I’d mind it from you…” He pauses. “Your name?”

“In this form, I’m Yuta.” Again with the cryptic responses. Maybe he’s some kind of shapeshifting demon. The thought doesn’t make Donghyuck any less attracted to him, having always enjoyed the more extreme forms of Hentai in his downtime. In fact, if Yuta gets all monster-y, Donghyuck will probably (read: definitely) want him even more. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Donghyuck considers it for a moment. He comes to the conclusion that, if he’s going to Hell, he might as well use the name that’s earned him his place there. “Call me Haechan for now,” he replies. It sounds lovely in that voice. 

_ Yuta. _ What a fittingly pretty name.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now, Haechan,” Yuta admits.

“Bit creepy, no?” Donghyuck retorts. He doubts it’s in his best wishes to tease a demon (assuming this guy  _ is _ a demon), but it comes too naturally to his lips to deny instinct. “What are you, some kind of supernatural stalker?”

“An  _ admirer,” _ Yuta corrects him. “I’m a fan of your work.”

It’s oddly erotic to imagine— Yuta watching Donghyuck take care of the scum he eradicates, Yuta  _ liking _ it. He wonders  _ how much _ Yuta liked observing ‘Haechan’. Perhaps he got off on it. Donghyuck likes the idea of that.

Donghyuck thinks all of this, but replies with something else entirely. “Sounds like something a stalker would say.”

“You’re a funny one, Haechan.” Thankfully, Yuta doesn’t seem bothered by Donghyuck’s teasing. Although, he can’t say he wouldn’t be at all turned on if Yuta  _ did  _ get mad. He has little self-preservation now he’s going down.

“Are all demons as hot as you,  _ Yuta?” _ That name feels stale in Donghyuck’s mouth, like he should be calling him something else. Donghyuck stings with some distant sort of shame. 

_ Why? _

The cogs turn, and something starts to come together. A realisation— not quite at the tip of his tongue, but somewhere halfway up his throat. Scratching at his consciousness. Wanting absolution. 

“Like to cut to the chase, don’t you?” Yuta hums, abandoning all pretense of driving altogether. The car continues to move regardless, whipping through the fog of its own volition. Yuta turns to Donghyuck instead, smiling with teeth that seem sharper than before. He blinks once, and his irises turn crimson. “Still think I’m ‘hot’, Haechannie?”

Donghyuck shudders, holding eye contact. “Even more, now.”

Dramatically, Yuta clicks his fingers. His nails sharpen like claws on beat, and Donghyuck realises that this isn’t some kind of Demon-Gets-Closer-To-Hell-And-Loses-Control-Over-Human-Form moment. Yuta is putting on a show for  _ him alone. _ Testing his tenacity. 

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” Donghyuck groans. Is Yuta’s tongue  _ forked,  _ now? “Does fucking you add more sin to my tally or some shit- Wait, y’know what, don’t tell me. I don’t care.” He reaches between the seats, playing with the upside-down cross hanging from a chain around Yuta’s neck. “Do demons have dicks?” he asks, unsure of how biology works in the underworld. “If you do have one, can I please get it in my mouth before I finish my one-way ride to Eternal Damnation?”

“Some of us do,” Yuta replies. “I prefer to, usually.” He takes Donghyuck’s hand, the sharp nail on his thumb pricking at Donghyuck’s wrist. It doesn’t draw blood, but Donghyuck would let him if he wanted to.  _ He’d let Yuta drink him up, any way he wants. That’s what demons like, right?  _ “Just the one, for now?”

Donghyuck’s brain fizzles and disintegrates. “Sure,” he agrees, trying to keep his voice even. He fails quite abysmally. “For now.” It’s a promise of another time, though Donghyuck doubts it’ll be fulfilled. Hell can’t be that pleasurable for serial killers, but he’ll at least go out with a bang.  _ Ha. _

The car radio makes a warped sort of hissing noise, and switches on. “Sorry,” Yuta remarks in an entirely unapologetic tone. “It’s set to play when you’re mentioned.”

Creepy, but flattering. Yuta really  _ has _ been keeping up with him. 

_ “This just in — serial murderer ‘Haechan’ appears to have struck again in downtown Seoul. The victim has been identified as 23-year-old forensic anthropology student Lee Donghyuck. While a stack of Haechan’s signature calling cards were found in the victim’s pocket, this victim diverges from Haechan’s pattern of convicted sex-offenders and other such serious criminal records. Lee Donghyuck has no criminal record to speak of himself, and was a straight A student. Is Haechan spiralling out of control, and will this change in victimology finally lead to his arrest? More after a commercial break-” _

Yuta switches it off before Bae Suzy can start trying to convince them to buy some specific brand of moisturiser. “Ironic, right?”

Donghyuck idly palms the crotch of Yuta’s leather trousers, and it feels like sacrilege in the loveliest sense. “You’re telling me,” he laughs. “Just my luck, being identified as one of my own damn kills.”

“Do you think they’ll figure you out?” 

“I hope so,” Donghyuck replies. “I’d rather  _ that  _ than dying without credit. Besides, it’s not like they can lock me up for it now. Death tends to get in the way of worldly imprisonment.”

“Flippant words for someone on their way to Hell.”

“What can I say...” Donghyuck muses. He untucks the mesh shirt from Yuta’s trousers, splaying his palm over taut muscle and metal. “... I like to live life on the edge.”

“You’re dead, darling,” Yuta points out. It would be insensitive, if Donghyuck really cared about that. “Maybe you should adjust your actions accordingly.”

“Saying I  _ shouldn’t _ suck you off?”

“Not in the slightest.” Yuta cups Donghyuck’s cheek, then trails one sharp nail along the length of his cheekbone. There’s a remarkable presence to him for someone who’s purportedly a glorified Charon. Perhaps he’s taking a shift for a friend— drivers don’t tend to dress like Yuta. Although, Donghyuck’s judging that by living standards. Perhaps all drivers in the Underworld are clad in mesh, chains and leather. 

Donghyuck hopes that Yuta sweats, or at least maintains the illusion of it. He has an all-too-vivid desire to lick it off his abs. For now, he leans down and tongues at the navel piercing glinting in the car’s unnatural glow. It’s like the tone of candlelight, made all the more eerie by the complete absence of any perceivable source, and the fog still surrounding them.  _ Donghyuck loves it.  _ Yuta’s skin is searingly hot, the piercing chilling in comparison. It clacks against his teeth as he pulls away, and he’d maybe care if he weren’t now some coalescence of spiritual energy. Donghyuck’s brain draws poetic comparisons to hellfire which he neglects to voice aloud. Instead, playing with his zipper, “Can I?”

Yuta  _ clicks _ once more, and his trousers simply melt away. There’s nothing beneath them. Because of course there isn’t. Yuta’s cock is already hard, springing up to  _ thwack _ heavily against his stomach once the trousers dissipate. There’s a bar through the head of it, even prettier than the navel piercing, and Donghyuck feels his mouth pool with saliva. He’s had a lifetime of hookups before this, but none of them have had a cock quite so worthy of worship. Nobody has been worthy of any form of worship from Donghyuck, really.  _ Not until now. _

“You’re gorgeous when you’re wanting,” Yuta remarks idly, watching Donghyuck test his size with one hand. He’s so thick that Donghyuck’s fingers can’t reach his thumb when they wrap around. 

“You’re more than gorgeous enough to want,” Donghyuck replies. A mortal man might rebut him, might tease his flattery. Yuta just drinks up the praise with an abundance of self-assurance. Fourth of the deadlies, and all. Fitting for someone so sinful. 

“Can I taste it?” Yuta asks. He takes Donghyuck’s free hand, tilts his wrist and observes it like he’s looking for the right place to tap for syrup. Donghyuck feels brittle in his grasp, less of a tree trunk and more of a twig. Easy to snap. His own fragility is intoxicating. “Want is so lovely an elixir.”

“Am I corporeal enough for such things?” Donghyuck wonders. He’s just left his own body still cooling on the tarmac, after all. 

“You’re no wandering spirit, Haechan,” Yuta clarifies, kissing Donghyuck’s pulsepoint as he speaks, “You’re as solid as you ever were, just in a different context.” The words hum against his skin, and he feels them as well as any living being. “I can taste you just fine, if you’ll let me.”

Donghyuck nods his assent, realises that Yuta is looking at his wrist rather than his face, and speaks aloud. “Have me all you like, My Lord.” The title slides from his tongue with ease, as if it were always meant to pass his lips. The realisation bursts in his mouth like popping candy.  _ Sour-sweet.  _ His soul flinches at the taste of this truth. 

Red eyes show an expectation realised— not surprise at his reverent tone, but self-satisfaction. It makes sense that Yuta is far more than Donghyuck had first assumed.  _ Why would a mere driver have been watching him with such rapt attention?  _

It means something special for  _ ‘Haechan’,  _ if he’s so desired in Hell by its very own ruler. Few would welcome such acute interest from the Devil, but Donghyuck has never been one to meld with the hive-mind of societal expectations. He wants all the interest the Devil will give him, wants to chase his favour and beg.

Yuta bites through fragile skin, and lets his mouth pool with Donghyuck’s eager blood. It’s pain just on the verge of too much, but does not pass that boundary. It feels crafted, toying deliberately within a threshold Donghyuck associates with pleasure.  _ Again, fitting. _ Yuta must know more about pain’s capabilities than anyone. He drinks Donghyuck down like fine wine, intermittently stemming the flow with his fingertips while he pauses to savour the taste. When he’s had enough, Yuta laps at torn skin until it fades and seals. Donghyuck would rather be left with a mark, but discards any notion of complaint. 

“Is my Want to your liking, My Lord?” He tries to call him  _ Yuta  _ this time, testing a theory, and his lips seem to automatically translate. It’s something built in, something not even Donghyuck’s clever mind can break without permission. There’s something so lovely about facing this degree of power. 

Donghyuck has never felt helpless, not even as he bled out from the sneak attack that had ultimately claimed his mortality. He feels it now, though— the presence of someone utterly superior. Donghyuck still has his free will, and he doesn’t know why he trusts that so completely from Yuta (from the  _ literal _ Devil), but he does. Despite this, he knows that he is inferior. And relishes it. 

It had been a tiring life, knowing that he was worth more than everyone he met. Hookups, fellow students, those scum he killed, all had been  _ lesser.  _ Disdain is more taxing an emotion than those beneath him could possibly imagine. Donghyuck tugs at Yuta’s dripping cock, and revels in the splendour of knowing his place. 

“Yours is near-incomparable, sweet Haechannie,” Yuta replies. His forked tongue cleans the last vestiges of Donghyuck’s blood from where it dares to stain the arch of his lips. “I’ve chosen you well.”

_ Chosen for what? _

Donghyuck dares not ask. If Yuta has chosen him to spend eternity in torture, he’d rather not sully his last moments of accessible pleasure. Torture seems worth it, anyway, if he’s been allowed such a perfect farewell. “Can I suck your cock?” He pauses, allowing himself the brief illusion of insolence— Yuta seems to like his title. “...  _ My Lord.” _

“You want to?” 

Of course he does, and the Devil knows it well. He’s never known want like this, only chasing meaningless release with faces he has never cared to remember.  _ Lesser. _ Not like Yuta. Donghyuck almost whines at how unworthy he feels. “I want to.”

Yuta trails one talon-esque nail over the obvious bulge of Donghyuck’s cock in his trousers. His repressed whimpers escape at once, unbidden. Yuta can probably make Donghyuck’s clothes melt away too, but he doesn’t.  _ Yet.  _ “If I can repay the favour once you’ve had your fill.”

Sharp teeth should make Donghyuck soften in fear, not throb all the more in his desperation. He’s a special kind of fucked-up. That’s nothing new, however. “It would be my honour.” It sounds like sarcasm on paper, such words from someone as self-absorbed as Haechan, but they both know the truth in his utterance. 

A murmured promise.  _ “It will be.” _ Sharp nails card through his hair, pain-pleasure making a welcome return, and hands that feel soft in comparison push him down. His subconscious expects to gag. _ It doesn’t come. _ He’s never been able to deepthroat with any level of skill, because nobody has ever been worthy of practicing on. It helps, therefore, that he no longer needs to breathe. 

Yuta tastes like the tart sweetness of forbidden fruit, and Donghyuck has never been more willing a sinner.

* * *

The car stops outside what look to be palace gates, the only thing visible on their journey thus far. It must be their destination. 

“Why did you come to pick me up?” Donghyuck dares to ask. It might be his last chance to. The very air itself feels hungry to drag him down as it seeps in through the half-open door. 

“Because you’re special,” Yuta replies. From his expression, Donghyuck cannot tell whether being special to Yuta is a good thing for his future in the Underworld. It could allude to special  _ treatment  _ like he has enjoyed thus far, or could mean special  _ attention  _ focused upon his torture. Despite himself and his propensity for murder, Donghyuck dares to hope that it’s the former. He has never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming.

They step out of the car, which fades back into the fog like it was never even there. The gates swing open. A man with vibrant red hair steps out to greet them. He hurries towards Yuta, raising on the balls of his feet to murmur something in his ear. 

“Now?” Yuta asks, seeming taken aback. “I thought he was due in several hours.”

“He missed you,” the man replies, and Donghyuck marvels at the way Yuta’s face softens. Whoever ‘he’ is, this visitor must be of considerable importance to the Devil. “He’s waiting in your chambers, My Lord.”

Yuta fidgets, like someone desperate to run yet holding back for propriety, and then seems to remember that he’s the one in charge down here. He gestures to Donghyuck. “This is Haechan,” he explains, “The one I told you about.”

“The killer from Seoul that you won’t shut up about, My Lord?” 

“Precisely. Haechan, meet Taeil.” Taeil smiles in what appears to be a welcome. His teeth aren’t as sharp as Yuta’s but are  _ sharp, _ nonetheless. “I’d show you around myself, but Taeil will have to suffice. I have something to do that cannot wait.”

_ “Someone _ to do, more like,” Taeil murmurs, soft in cadence but still audible. Yuta laughs, and does not deny it. Taeil must be a higher-up, indeed, to feel safe teasing the Devil so. “I’ll be fine with him alone, My Lord— go to him. You’re itching for it.”

“How can I not be?” Yuta sighs. His yearning is so palpable that Donghyuck desperately wants to know who’s worthy of causing it. Whoever it is, they’re far more important to Yuta than Donghyuck could ever hope to be. “I leave Haechan in your capable hands, Taeillie,” he says then, skipping past Taeil’s place on the steps to hurry into the palace. The cadence of his running footsteps is soon replaced by the  _ whoosh _ of what sounds like unfolding wings, and then it goes silent. Yuta is gone, and Donghyuck is left with the unknown. 

With Taeil.

Finally, the pretty man’s full attention is on Donghyuck. Only then does he realise how much he’d been aching for it. Taeil’s eyes are as red as his hair, and twice as beautiful. Donghyuck wants to drown in their depths, wants Taeil with the same sudden ferocity that Yuta had brought about.  _ Actually, not the same— more.  _ It seems Donghyuck needed only to die to find people worthy of his want. 

_ “Hae-chan,” _ Taeil muses, testing its sound on his lips. “You’re the sun, are you, baby?”

“People often find me blindingly beautiful,” Donghyuck replies, flirting coming easy with such a muse. “And I’ve been known to burn from time to time.”

“So I’ve heard,” Taeil says. He moves closer, descending the steps, and Donghyuck realises he’s even shorter than he first appeared. “You’re quite the virtuoso— Yuta was forever going on about recruiting you when you passed.” He takes Donghyuck by the wrist, and begins to lead him up the steps. “Come,” he urges, “If you stay out here too long, the fog will take you.”

Donghyuck has never been one to fear in life, but he shivers now at the thought of  _ that  _ as the ornate door closes behind them. They’re in an entry hall now, one so grand it cannot be for anything but show. “This is so pretentious,” he remarks, wondering if his words will garner punishment. He wouldn’t mind taking it from Taeil. Not in any sense of the phrase.

“It is,” Taeil agrees. No punishment yet, then.  _ A pity. _ “Yuta likes his pretty things.”

“He must like you a lot, then.” Donghyuck bats his eyes without shame. 

“You’re shameless, Haechan,” Taeil says, more of a statement than a reprimand. He smiles, and Donghyuck has never seen anything prettier. Yuta is beauty in the dangerous sense, all sharp edges and metal decoration. Taeil is beautiful in a way that makes Donghyuck ache with longing, the kind that settles heavy in his chest. The world is beneath Donghyuck, and in Yuta he’s found his superior. Taeil feels different— like Donghyuck has met an equal. Just like bowing to Yuta’s power, a common ground is something entirely new. 

“What do you mean by Yuta wanting to recruit me?” Donghyuck asks in lieu of acknowledging his churning emotions. 

“He didn’t explain in the car?” Taeil seems surprised. “He said that he was going to.”

“We didn’t talk all that much, really,” Donghyuck says with what must be an  _ incredibly  _ self-satisfied expression, because realisation dawns on Taeil’s soft features. “If you catch my drift.”

“Yuta had you already, then?” Taeil seems more amused than anything. Perhaps a little jealous of Yuta’s conquest, but Donghyuck may well be projecting. “That’s fast, even for him.”

“Can you blame him?” Donghyuck frames his face with his hands like a flower, and Taeil rolls his eyes. It's pretty on him. “I mean, look at me.”

“I am, trust me,” Taeil replies, and it’s the first real hint that this gorgeous man wants him in return. Donghyuck leaps at it, hooking his arm through Taeil’s and pulling himself close to his side. 

“Look all you like,” Donghyuck encourages. He lets his head fall briefly to Taeil’s shoulder, and feels strength there unbecoming of his stature. “As long as I can look in return.”

“Won’t I be blinded if I stare at the sun?” It’s teasing, and Donghyuck loves it from Taeil.

“Something tells me you’re stronger than mortal men.”

“You’d be right.”

“I often am.” Donghyuck giggles like some tween girl with a crush, but it makes Taeil smile so he doesn’t much mind.

“Yuta told me we’d get along,” Taeil confides.

Donghyuck tilts his head. “Why would that be? Because we’re both beautif-”

Taeil interrupts, and while Donghyuck  _ hates  _ being interrupted, he doesn’t mind it from him. Especially considering what he interrupts with. “Oh, because we’re both killers, of course!” He says it so light, so airily, so  _ sweet, _ that Donghyuck almost misses the darkness in his words. 

He turns, still linked by the arm, to meet those pretty blood-red eyes. While Taeil must obviously have done  _ something _ worthy of ‘eternal damnation’, Donghyuck had assumed it was a crime far tamer than his own.  _ “You _ killed people?” 

Taeil takes Donghyuck’s chin between his finger and thumb, tilting his face almost mockingly. “Scared, baby?” he coos, and Donghyuck nearabout creams his pants. It’s been less than twenty minutes since his last orgasm, but his cock seems to have forgotten that already. Maybe something in the Hell Air eradicates refractory periods. “Did you think I was down here for tax evasion?”

Letting go of his face, Taeil grabs Donghyuck’s wrist once more and pulls him across the vast entrance hall. They reach a side door, and it leads into a corridor that looks near-endless. “Who did you kill?” Donghyuck asks as they continue on, not even trying to disguise the breathy tone his voice has taken. The thought of Taeil all bloody and murderous is as good as an aphrodisiac. 

“Around half of my parish before I was caught,” Taeil readily admits. “Naturally, they’d spill all their secrets to someone they trusted. And they were all such  _ dreadful  _ sinners. I’m sure you understand.”

Donghyuck understands perfectly. He’s also immeasurably turned on by the implication that Taeil had been a murderous  _ priest. _ Now there’s a visual. “So, Yuta mentioned that he’d informed you of my… exploits?”

“Yuta hardly needed to.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck hopes that Taeil means what he thinks he does.

“Yuta wasn’t your only admirer,  _ ‘Haechan’.” _

Suddenly fighting the urge to full-body wriggle with delight, Donghyuck settles for smiling none-too-humbly. “A fan, Taeil-ssi?” He assumes honorifics are still necessary with a fellow Korean, one not born as a demon but fallen to become one. “You must have been watching me.”

“Think more ‘kindred spirit’ than ‘fan’, darling. Hyung is fine, too, if titles make you comfortable.”

Donghyuck willingly takes him up on it, relishing the implications of closeness. “I’m just trying to show that I respect you,  _ hyung.”  _ The title feels strange, like he’s saying something out of date. Unnecessary.

“A novel concept for you, I’m sure.” Taeil sees right through him, and the way he’s lived as  _ better.  _ “I’m a lucky recipient, given what I can tell of your nature.” 

“Few deserve it, but you seem to.”

“I do, I assure you,” Taeil scoffs, like he finds Donghyuck naive. “Just because you haven’t heard me in recent news, that doesn’t mean I’m any less infamous than Seoul’s precious Haechan.”

Precious hardly seems the right adjective here, but Donghyuck latches onto another detail.  _ Recent news.  _ “When did you die?” 

“You catch on quick,” Taeil praises. It feels better than perhaps Donghyuck ought to let it. “I was killed by an overly observant member of my parish in 1903. He caught on to my ‘extracurricular activities’, per se, and took the law into his own hands.”

“I don’t even know who killed me,” admits Donghyuck. He feels an odd sense of shame about that. He’ll readily admit it’s because he wants to impress Taeil. This sort of nervousness hasn’t graced him before, and he sees no sense in self-denial. 

“Maybe Yuta will let you drag them down once you’ve proved yourself to him,” Taeil hums distractedly. The vindictive hate for his killer coiling in Donghyuck’s chest rears up, but he tames it for now. 

“They actually think  _ Haechan  _ killed Lee Donghyuck, the ‘perfect college student’...” It seems a strange statement without the context of his true name. 

“And Haechan _ didn’t?” _

“You’re speaking to Lee Donghyuck right now.” Knowing that names must hold power, Donghyuck isn’t sure why he gives it up. It’s undoubtedly foolish to trust Taeil already.

At this, however, Taeil laughs. “Poor you,” he tuts, “Murdered by Haechan in cold blood. However will you avenge yourself against him?” He speaks without looking at Donghyuck, busy dragging his nails over ridges in a door they’ve stopped by, tapping all over the wood like he’s giving up a passcode. Donghyuck is yet to understand the intricacies of the Underworld. He leaves Taeil to it, therefore, watching the way his face scrunches up cutely as he concentrates. The door swings open soon enough, and so Donghyuck’s password suspicions are proven. 

He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting. A firepit, perhaps, for Donghyuck to be pushed into screaming. A teeming mass of souls waiting to swallow him into their midst. A dungeon, equipped with Donghyuck-sized shackles— and not the sexy kind. 

Instead, it’s a bedroom. 

Fancily done up, all ostentatious blood-red lace and candelabras, but a mere bedroom nonetheless. There’s a four-poster bed with slightly rumpled sheets that add a lived-in effect to their surroundings, and Donghyuck can only wonder whose privacy they’re intruding upon. 

“What did you do with Yuta?” Taeil asks, out of the blue. “You’re not limping, so I can only assume you didn’t have time for... Well.” It’s less coy, more Taeil preferring to hear it from Donghyuck’s lips.

“For him to fuck me?” Donghyuck completes the sentence without shame. “You’d be right, though I certainly wouldn’t have minded it. I asked to suck his cock, he sucked mine after. Curiosity satisfied, hyung?”

“To an extent.”

Donghyuck means to ask him to elaborate, but gets distracted. There’s an oil-painting of a priest on the wall, one of those huge imposing creepy numbers that looks like it’s going to follow you around the room with its eyes. It looks  _ ancient, _ too, like in the centuries-old region. Donghyuck peers past the unfortunate black bowlcut the guy is sporting, and his eyes hone in on the same pair of pretty lips that he’s been staring at since he got to Hell.  _ Oh. _

Beside him, Taeil seems to sense the moment of realisation. “I’d like to hope that my fashion sense has improved since my early years.”

This is Taeil’s room, then. That in itself completely flips Donghyuck’s perception. The lace suddenly seems a whole lot less pretentious, Donghyuck’s bias towards Taeil endearing it to his sensitivities. “Why am I in your room?”

“Just about all in Yuta’s circles are going to want to fuck you, if you’re willing.” It isn’t an answer, but it’s a flattering statement. 

_ If they’re as captivating as Taeil and Yuta, consent will be freely given. _

“Blunt words from a man of the cloth,” Donghyuck teases, and allows his mind to briefly delve into the horny-charged realm of Taeil In Priest Clothing. “Do you still have the little collar?” 

“No comment. I think you’d die all over again if I made you any more worked up for me,” Taeil replies. Donghyuck almost blushes at the confirmation of his own obviousness. “As for why you’re in my room, well-”

“Yes?” Donghyuck asks, eager. 

Taeil steps closer, and his eyes seem to glow. “Yuta didn’t fuck you when he had the chance, so I’d rather like to be the first to, if you’ll have me.”

Donghyuck scoffs, even as his breathing falters. Taeil is backing him across the room, all the way until he hits the bed and crumples back onto it. “I’m no virgin, Taeil.” Honorifics feel stale in the face of eternity, so he gives up on trying to cling on to old realities.

“You are to the way it feels down here, Donghyuck.”

Hearing his common name out loud like this feels sacreligious to his legacy. He thinks that Taeil knows that, and that’s why he used it. It’s a dance on his grave, and one that Donghyuck welcomes. 

“I’ve killed men for nothing more than daring to say my true name.” A lie, bravado mustered up to try and tip the scales. Stumbling from equal footing feels like defeat in a way different to his willing submission in the face of Yuta’s glory. 

“You say this like I can’t tell you’re lying, darling,” Taeil replies. He knows, because  _ of course _ he knows. “If that were their only sin, you’d be languishing in the Torture Realm already.”

“You’re no fun.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, biting back a whimper just from the way Taeil is looking down at him. He hasn’t joined him on the bed yet, lurking like a vampire at the threshold, waiting for invitation. That train of thought torments him even more, making Donghyuck wonder if Taeil will bite him too. __

Like Yuta, will Taeil taste the evidence of his Want?

“I can assure you, I’m plenty of  _ fun,”  _ Taeil retorts. Donghyuck sinks into sheets that feel expensive, looking up through his lashes in a laughable imitation of innocence. Taeil tenses, like someone holding back with all they have. Careful, calm by design rather than reality, he asks, “Can I prove it?”

“I think I might cry if I don’t get to see your cock, Taeil.” He says it perfectly matter-of-fact. “Or however many you have of them, Yuta did mention the possibility of more.”

Taeil smiles as he descends to bracket Donghyuck’s hips with his thighs, and while less predatory than the Absolute Superiority of Yuta, the look in his eyes is still suitably chilling. “What makes you think you won’t be crying anyway, Hyuckie?” Taeil coos, cupping Donghyuck as he butchers his name with some diminutive moniker.  _ Screw his Killing Code, Haechan would absolutely kill someone for daring to call him ‘Hyuckie’. _ Donghyuck finds himself too busy whimpering to complain, caught up in ruby eyes that visibly want him more than he’s ever been desired. Though Yuta made him feel small in a way he’s never experienced, this disarming  _ equalness  _ is something Donghyuck thinks he could enjoy even more.

“Is that a challenge, Taeil?”  _ It is, it is, it is.  _

Two riled-up serial killers with only their moral codes keeping them from the Torture Realm.  _ Kind of poetic. _

Taeil seems to sharpen the nail on his pointer finger with nothing more than his own mental fortitude, and uses it to slice open Donghyuck’s trousers. “You’ll have an updated wardrobe here anyway,” he defends himself, like Donghyuck had been complaining and not moaning at the display of demonic biology. Like Donghyuck isn’t honed in on the incomparable feeling of Taeil’s lips trailing up his inner thigh.

“Do you bite?” Donghyuck asks, and it sounds like  _ bite me please, _ “Like Yuta.”

“He must really like you, if he’s tasting you like that already,” Taeil remarks, slicing off Donghyuck’s boxer-briefs just as he’d disposed of his trousers. Donghyuck pulls off his own shirt, because he doesn’t want Taeil moving up from between his thighs to deal with it personally. He likes him down there. “You’re the prettiest to descend in a while, so that’s understandable.”

“Do  _ you  _ bite?” Donghyuck repeats, ignoring the flush he can feel creeping up his cheeks, pride washed away with hues of pink. He needs to know. He  _ wants, wants, wants. _

Are his eyes deceiving him, or have Taeil’s nails grown sharper where they’re pushing apart his thighs? 

Taeil looks up at him, pink forked tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his teeth are  _ definitely _ pointier than before. “Impatient, baby?” he asks with an  _ aww, _ kissing Donghyuck’s hipbone chastely before dragging his teeth gently over the taut skin. It leaves a raised trail of red that hasn’t quite drawn blood. Taeil is delectably frustrating. 

“You said demons would be lining up to fuck me,” Donghyuck points out, goading him, “Should I go and find some of them, if you aren’t up for it?” 

They’re empty words, and Taeil can evidently tell. “Go ahead, later,” he says, still. “You can have as many as you want — they want you already. Right now, though, you’re  _ mine.”  _ He punctures Donghyuck’s thigh with one sharp fingernail, sweetly lapping at the small bead of blood that the action procures. Taeil’s pretty tongue hangs out as he savours him, letting Donghyuck in on the tantalising sight of red flooding across dark pink tastebuds, dipping into the cleft where his tongue splits in two. Like an inkblot against parchment, seeping in and  _ staining. _ Donghyuck hopes that his impact upon Taeil can be equally irrevocable. 

Taeil smacks his lips, tilting his head back like he’s just taken something  _ potent _ and he’s feeling it tingle through his veins, lifting him up to ecstasy. 

“I’m yours,” Donghyuck agrees, because how could he want to be anything else? The  _ for now _ goes unsaid, because Donghyuck simply does not want to say it. “All you want, c’mon,  _ please,” _ he adds, as desperate as he’s ever been. Donghyuck’s been aching to be filled since he first laid eyes on Yuta, even before he’d known that the driver was the Lord of the Underworld. Yuta hadn’t fucked him like he needed, and Taeil between Donghyuck’s thighs is making the residual ache worse by the second. 

“No wonder Yuta tasted you, Hyuckie,” Taeil coos, “All desperate like this.” He bites down  _ hard _ into Donghyuck’s inner thigh, just like Donghyuck wants, and when he pulls away there’s a trickle of Donghyuck’s blood at the corner of his mouth. Just like some vampire cliche schtick. Donghyuck had always been Team Jacob as a tween, but the fanged agenda suddenly seems far sexier at present. 

“Does it taste better like that?”

“It tastes horrible without,” Taeil replies. The blood still stains the corner of his lips, and Donghyuck wants to kiss it from his perfect face. “It’s flattering, how good you taste. How much you want me. They’re constant parallels, taste and desire.”

“You’re so pretty,” Donghyuck reveres, “This hair suits you far more than the painting.”

“I think anything would.”

“You gonna fuck me already, Taeil?” Donghyuck asks then, aching for it and eager. Taeil looks like he’ll split him right open. Donghyuck wants it immediately, desperate despite the imminence of forever. 

“I suppose.”

“You  _ suppose?” _ Donghyuck pouts, and doesn’t even try to hide his distaste. “Way to sound enthusiastic, darling. You’ll give me a complex.”

“I want to eat you out first,” Taeil tells him, making Donghyuck’s heart ricochet between his chest and stomach, “But Ten called dibs, the absolute bastard.”

“Someone I haven’t even met has already  _ called dibs _ on eating my ass?” Donghyuck asks, head spinning. It’s a lot to take in.

“Like I said,” Taeil says, pulling off his trousers at last and revealing a distinct lack of underwear. He isn’t pierced like Yuta, which dispels Donghyuck’s wondering as to whether it’s some kind of Hell  _ thing.  _ Only one cock, too, though Donghyuck gets the feeling he could request more and get them in turn. He’s able to do the nails thing like Yuta, so it tracks that he’d be able to do other such modifications, “Sex is different down here. It’s always fun to be the ones to introduce that to the newcomers.”

“And why is this ‘Ten’ so sure I’ll want them? Is everyone sex on legs down here, or are you and Yuta the exceptions?”

Taeil laughs at that, like Donghyuck’s the butt of a joke he’ll only later realise the extent of. “Hyuckie, baby,” he coos. Donghyuck likes Taeil calling him that a little too much, really. “I’ve never met anyone that didn’t want to have sex with Ten after meeting him.”

_ Interesting.  _ “Colour me intrigued,” Donghyuck reaches out for Taeil’s pretty cock, swiping the pad of his index finger over the swollen head of it. “Gonna get this in me now, Taeillie?”

“Can you imagine yourself wet for me, Donghyuck?” Taeil murmurs, an abnormal sentence said entirely matter-of-fact. It makes a strange amount of sense that Donghyuck would be able to do so. He imagines it, alright, and feels a strange tingling ensue. “Good,” Taeil praises him; Donghyuck knows that he’s done it right, then. The tingling increases, spiking as Taeil’s finger tests his hole, nails bluntened for comfort. “That’s perfect, baby. You’re a natural.”

“Am I a demon too, Taeil?” Donghyuck asks, Taeil pushing three fingers inside him. They feel like they grow longer inside him, tendrils feeling him out. Drawn out, slippery, inhuman. He feels himself gush around them, and reels in the wetness he has imagined into existence. They don’t need to drown in it.

“Almost.” Taeil kisses Donghyuck’s cock. When he pulls his fingers free, they don’t  _ look _ abnormal, but Donghyuck knows he’d felt more. “You’re a quick learner, it won’t take long once you have someone to teach you.”

“I want you,” Donghyuck replies. Steadfast, unwavering. He thinks that Taeil is the most perfect person in the universe.  _ Person _ is a strong word down here, but Donghyuck knows what he means. “I want you to teach me.”

Taeil smiles, like he thinks Donghyuck is naive. Donghyuck just knows what he wants. Had in life, does in death. In this state of  _ after. _ “You’ll have plenty of options, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck is not naive, no matter what Taeil assumes. He knows that he’s perfect, that he’s beautiful, that even down here he can have ‘people’ fall at his feet. Donghyuck well intends to revel in it, but for  _ this _ he has already fallen in one perfect direction. “I know I will.” He reaches up, and holds Taeil’s jaw, thumb pressing against his lips. A forked tongue laps around it, either side. “I don’t need options, though. I like you the most already.”

Taeil’s cock presses against his hole unguided, lining itself up as if it has its own distinct movement. Donghyuck imagines that it probably does, if everything else so far is anything to go by. “You’re gorgeous,” he says. It’s the most honest that Donghyuck has ever heard those words, and he’s obviously heard them an innumerable amount. 

“Do you already have a favourite, Taeil?” Donghyuck asks on the tail-end of a whine, breathless as the beautiful demon pushes into his body. 

“No.” Taeil’s lips trail along his neck, tracing the path with his teeth. He doesn’t wait for Donghyuck to adjust — Donghyuck doesn’t  _ need  _ to adjust, and Taeil well knows it — and snaps his hips against Donghyuck’s own like a professional. His cock feels like it’s swelling inside, taking up all the space Donghyuck will allow. Were he still human, Donghyuck wonders if he might just die from it. He wills himself hotter, wetter,  _ tighter,  _ a lovelier vessel for Taeil’s want. Taeil swears against his skin, bites down on Donghyuck’s neck, so it must have been successful. 

_ “I’m  _ your favourite now, then.” Donghyuck arches beneath him, determined to live up to his own bold words. He splays his hand on the flat of his stomach and sucks it in. It may be his wishful thinking, but he thinks he can feel Taeil’s movements beneath his palm. Taeil seems to notice, growing bigger inside until the push of it is visible. Donghyuck wants to cry from sheer arousal. “I am, aren’t I? Tell me I am.”

“You’re  _ shameless,” _ Taeil replies, “That’s what you are.”

“And you like that in a lover, don’t you?” Donghyuck retorts. He dares to flip their positions, maneuvering himself expertly into Taeil’s lap and setting to bouncing in it almost at once. Taeil’s thighs are strong and lovely beneath him. His thick cock slides in and out of Donghyuck in a way that will leave him gaping in its absence. 

“That and a history of murder.” Taeil laps away blood from where it has pooled at Donghyuck’s clavicle. He’s teasing him, and it’s lovely, but Donghyuck wants reciprocally unbounded levels of want. 

“I’m perfect for you, aren’t I?” he urges. Taeil makes him all too desperate. Even with the taste of Yuta’s cock still waning on his tongue, he’d been hooked from the very first sight. He pulls Taeil’s body closer, latches his mouth to the arch of his neck. “I’m your favourite, aren’t I?”

Taeil shudders, tipping his neck to the side and allowing Donghyuck easier access. Donghyuck wonders if his teeth can sharpen too, and wills it to be. Taeil cries out, blood beading suddenly at his skin. Donghyuck laps them up eagerly. They taste like heaven, an irony not lost upon him. “You really are a natural, Hyuckie,” Taeil moans, sounding ruined. Sounding  _ impressed.  _ Donghyuck has surpassed his expectations. 

“And-”

“Yes.” Taeil cuts him off as he tries once more to whine for attention. “You’re my favourite.”

Donghyuck shudders, suddenly careening into unexpected orgasmic bliss. His eyes flutter shut, and the darkness is filled with stars.  _ Not pinpricks of light, but supernovas.  _ Taeil had been right.

It really is different down here. 

**Author's Note:**

> For context, Yuta left them to meet his lover, angel!Mark. I do have a potential follow-up with Donghyuck watching them in mind that I have a little written for. I may possibly write the Ten/Hyuck demon rimming that's implied also, if I feel like it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Please tell me what you thought in the comments - I would really appreciate it ♡♡♡
> 
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